


Collateral Damage

by Anonymous



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Spencer Reid, No Romance, Sad Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Whump, Unsub | Unknown Subject, all friendships - Freeform, i still don’t know how to tag, idk if it will be happy ending yet, sorry I just got into Criminal Minds, yes this will be angst filled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Police officers in the heart of Washington D.C. become victims of a malicious unsub, out to get revenge on the the Metro Police Department. The BAU is called in to help put the case to rest before anyone else is left in the unsub’s wake.
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i put graphic depictions of violence just in case. im not great at describing scenes like that, so generally it will be pretty light, however i don’t want anyone stumbling upon this thinking that it will be free of violence, because obviously it’s a criminal minds fic, so it won’t be void of that stuff.

To say his head hurt was an understatement. Reid's head was pounding, like it was splitting in two, making it almost impossible to focus. Despite the amount of doctors he'd visited over the past several months, no one had been able to give him a straight answer. And because no one had been able to determine why he got the headaches, they continued to get worse as time passed.

The death and revival of his friend definitely didn't help ease them. It just seemed to confuse his brain more.

His phone rang beside him on the nightstand. Reid winced at the sudden noise, squeezing his eyes shut, as if willing the intense pain coursing through his head to stop. Of course, it didn't work. He laid on his bed, unmoving, until the ringing stopped and silence engulfed his apartment again.

He rolled over, reaching for the phone. _1 missed call: Hotch._

Reid sighed. They had just gotten back from their last mission not even three hours ago. Usually he'd complain about the lack of sleep, but sleep wasn't something that he found easy anymore. Not for a long time, actually. He just wanted it to be quiet. And working another case was exactly the opposite of that.

As he sat up, pain rippled through his head, letting the edges of his vision go dark. He dropped his head to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut until it reduced to a dull throb. This sucked. Profoundly.

* * *

Reid silently slipped into the room, avoiding eye contact with his teammates.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" Morgan asked, leaning his chair back towards him.

He nodded, trying to ignore his worsening headache. "Yeah. I, uh, just missed the bus. I'm fine."

"Long night?"

Reid frowned and shook his head, almost in amusement. "Nope, just woke up a little late."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, but didn't press further. He appreciated that.

"I know we just got back from our last case, and I hate calling you all back in, but this one's important," Hotch interrupted.

"Yeah, I meant to ask you that," Emily mumbled. "It's like 5 am, Hotch. Why are we here so early? I was just falling asleep."

"Three victims," Hotch said, pointing to the screen. "They were all found at scenes of different 9-1-1 calls. Their injuries were the same, multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Not to sound insensitive, but what's so special about this that they needed to call in the FBI? Can't the regular police handle this?"

"She's got a point there," Morgan said. "We always find these victims at the scenes of 9-1-1 calls, Hotch. This is pretty standard."

"All three of these victims were cops from the D.C. area," Hotch continued, ignoring their remarks. "All died within the same month. They all had a remarkable amount of stab wounds on their bodies when they were recovered, and suffered from blunt force trauma to the head. Our latest victim was just discovered late last night. The MPD asked specifically for our help on this one."

"They were responding to emergencies. I don't mean to be a wet blanket, but cops die all the time in the line of duty. Is it possible that it wasn't murder?"

"I don't think so. I mean, yes it happens, but not to this extent," Reid said quietly, squinting his eyes as he looked up. "Last year only about seventy two officers were feloniously killed on duty. Not including car wrecks or misfires. That averages out to about six deaths per month. The odds of three different killings happening of this degree, in the same district, in this time span is unusual."

"So if these are murders, not only is this unsub we're looking for a serial killer, he's also a cop killer," JJ said, looking at the files in front of her. "And the amount of stab wounds inflicted on each victim shows overkill. They're definitely angry about something. I don't think they're going to be done any time soon."

Hotch stood up, gathering his things. "Reid, JJ, I want you two to go to the medical examiner's office. See what you can gather from the victim's body, see if anything was missed. Morgan, Emily, I want you two to check out the crime scene. Rossi and I will go to the department and see what we can find out from the families. Meet back here when you're done and call us if you need anything."

Reid lingered, as everyone filed out of the room. The light in the room seemingly getting brighter and brighter with each passing moment. He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands, hoping for the headache to subside.

"Hey Spence, you okay?" JJ's voice broke through his thoughts, cutting through like a knife. "This is the third time you've been late this week, and you look like you haven't slept."

He swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose before slowing standing up. "Yeah, well having your friend miraculously come back from the dead will definitely make one lose sleep. Especially when you weren't informed about it."

"I thought we talked about this already. I couldn't tell you. For Emily's protection I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, I swear but–"

"Save it, Jennifer. Let's just go, I'm fine."

He didn't wait for her response. True, they had talked about it, but it would take more than a simple apology for him to get over it. She did lie to him. For the ten weeks he came crying to her, she withheld that information from him. He understood why she did it, but it still stung. It felt like she was just continuously rubbing it in his face that he was important enough to tell. It wasn't like he had anyone to tell in the first place. It just amazed him how easily his so called "friend", could lie to him.

"Spence, wait!"

He picked up the pace.

* * *

"You know," JJ said, cutting through the silence that hung over them. The drive until then had been quiet. "This is not how I imagined spending my Mother’s day. Hunting down a serial killer."

He said nothing in response, leaning his head against the cool window.

"Spence, look. You can't stay mad at Emily and I forever. We did what we had to do to keep her identity from Doyle. I would have told you if I could have, but I wasn't allowed. I was just following protocol. You can understand that, right?"

He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap at her again.

"Okay fine. I'm not going to pretend that I understand how you feel. I won't act like I'm in you shoes. I get that I was out of line for saying that you were mad because you couldn't detect our deception, but you also overstepped a line."

"What line was that?" He asked, turning to her.

"Dilaudid. You knew I felt responsible for that whole situation. You were angry that I felt justified for what I did, and brought it up because you wanted me to feel guilty about something."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "If you think that was what I was doing, then you're not as great of a profiler as you like to think you are."

She swallowed. "It was part of it though, wasn't it?"

"At least it was the truth."

JJ fell silent, her grip on the wheel tightening until her knuckles turned white. Reid averted his eyes back to the passing scenery out the car window. It _was_ true.

After he thought Emily had died, the headaches continued to worsen. He was angry, upset that he had never even gotten to say goodbye. Emily was one of his closest friends. The only one at the time that had known about his headaches, and there had been a moment–or several–when he thought about taking dilaudid again. He thought that maybe it would numb the pain enough. So much so that he wouldn't have to face what he was really suffering with. He didn't, but he'd been closer to relapsing than he'd like to admit. No one knew that though. Not until he'd yelled at JJ in the middle of the case. And even then, he wasn't sure they really understood.

He hated arguing with his friends, especially JJ, but he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal.

"I said I was sorry, Spencer," she said after a moment. "I don't know how else to make it up to you."

"I'd actually prefer it if we just...didn't talk."

"Fine," she muttered. "Then we won't talk."

Good, he thought, closing his eyes for a mere moment. It was finally quiet.

Reid hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until he heard JJ's voice telling him to wake up, as well as the unpleasant shaking that made his head pound.

"Hey, Reid, we're here."

He jolted awake. "I fell asleep?"

"Yeah, I uh, didn't want to wake you up. You looked like you really needed it earlier."

He rubbed his eyes, attempting to adjust to the bright light outside. "Let's go."

"Hey wait!" JJ called, quickening her pace to keep up with him. "About before–"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Well, are you okay? At least?"

"I'm fine, JJ. Can we just do our job? Not everything has to be some personal event."

"I just–you look sick, Spence," she said, ignoring the animosity in his voice. "Have you seen yourself lately? You're pale, you look like you haven't slept in days, you're constantly zoning out and irritable."

"No offense JJ, but I really don't think that's any of your business."

She let out a loud sigh of annoyance, but didn't say anything else. It was probably for the best, all things considered. He wasn't really looking to make small talk with her right now.

"You must be Agent Jareau and Dr. Reid," a female voice interrupted the hostile silence between the two. "I'm Dr. Murphy. The department told me you'd be coming here. Here's the report."

"You put here that cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the head?" Reid asked, going through the papers.

"Yeah? What's so important about that?"

"It doesn't match the other two victims," JJ said. "They all died due to multiple stab wounds, no other wounds were found on their bodies. This is different. You don't think it could be a different unsub?"

Reid shook his head, making minimal eye contact. "Comparing the pictures and the reports, the stab wounds appear to be made by the same weapon."

He knit his eyebrows together. "Look here. The lack of blood around these wounds indicates they were made postmortem."

"Overkill," JJ said, squinting at the photo. "So my theory earlier was right. This guy has some deep rooted anger in him. God, there has to be at least thirty stab wounds here."

"Forty three, actually." Reid corrected, turning towards the medical examiner. "Did you happen to find the bullet when you were looking for cause of death?"

"No. It went clean through and through," she said. "What I found interesting is that while some of these stab wounds were postmortem like you saw, these fifteen specifically were made before they were shot. None of them were severe enough to kill, but it would have certainly been painful."

"It's like they were trying to torture the victim," JJ muttered. "But how would they have had the time? I mean each of them were found at the sites of different 9-1-1 calls. They wouldn't have had much time to do what they did without either witnesses or other officers seeing them."

"A single gunshot would have likely drawn attraction, but given that they were responding to an emergency, the cop car might have just turned people away, thinking it was just a regular police response," Reid said, but even he didn't feel convinced in his own answer. He stopped, bending down to get a closer look at the victim's body. "Hold on. Do you see this?"

She knelt down next to him, staring at the arm that he was pointing at.

"That's not a stab wound," she said. "It's a pretty shallow cut, considering all the other wounds."

"No. It looks like a defensive wound. And judging from the bruising on the arms here, and on the victim's legs, they must have been fighting back."

"Does that fit with the others?"

“I don’t know,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Hey Spence, how y’all were each other victims and how much did they weigh?”

He looked down at the papers in front of him. “All of them were over six foot, and weighed at least one eighty.”

”And how old were they?”

”Mid twenties and early thirties.”

“So the unsub had to be big enough to be able to keep them restrained.”

”We should get back to the bullpen. Hotch and Rossi should know this.”

"Maybe Emily and Morgan found something at the crime scene,” JJ said, standing up. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Murphy."

"Why would this unsub change their method?" He asked, more so to himself than to the blonde next to him. "I mean, the gunshot would definitely draw more attention to the crime scene. Even if bystanders didn't react so much in a way that would get them caught, why risk it at all?"

"Maybe they're getting arrogant. The more cocky they get, the more likely they are to get reckless."

"Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

"Does it matter what I think?" 

She sighed. "Come on, Spence. Are we really gonna keep doing this?"

He remained quiet, staring at the photos in his lap. The change in the unsubs behavior was drastic, but he was definitely missing something. It didn't make sense. 

"Well, will you at least tell me what's going on in that brain of yours?" JJ asked, removing the keys from the ignition. "You've given me the silent treatment the entire ride here, and now you're not even sharing what you think on the back. I know given the situation right now that's not really unusual but..."

"Nothing's going on, I'm just–thinking."

"Don't lie to me."

"You know, that's really rich, coming from you."

She bit her lip. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Spence. All I'm asking is that you put this grudge aside so we can work to finish this case. When this is all over you can go back to hating me if that's really what you want, but we can't have you distracted because you're mad at something I did."

"I can multitask."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"We need to tell the others about this. See if what they found can help us piece this together."

“Or we can do that,” she said. “Call Hotch, tell him we’re on our way back.”

“ _Don’t bother_ ,” Hotch’s voice crackled through the phone. “ _Metro just got a 911 call. They found another body. I’ll send you the address, we’ll meet you there._ ”

“Another one? But it hasn’t even been twelve hours since the last body was found.”

“ _The unsub is escalating. Something must have triggered something for them, just be careful._ ”M

“I don’t like the sound of this,” JJ said, turning the vehicle around. “It’s been less then a day and they’re already at it again.”

“From what I can tell they’re pretty disorganized. The spacing between each murder has been inconsistent, as well as how they’re killing, and the number of stab wounds inflicted on each victim has been different every time,” Reid said, looking back through the reports from the medical examiner. “It doesn’t seem like these are premeditated murders, rather they just jumped on the best opportunity they could find.”

“So what you’re saying is we have no idea when they could strike again?”

He shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”

“That’s just great.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda bad and slow moving but uhhh yeah ahaha

"What do we got?" JJ asked, walking up to the new crime scene. "Similar to the others?"

Hotch turned from the body lying a few inches away from his feet. "Looks like the same guy. Only about twenty stab wounds this time, but all postmortem. A gunshot wound to the head looks like the cause of death here, which is different from the others."

Reid squinted, his eyes attempting to adjust to the sunlight. "Not that different actually," he said, handing his boss the medical examiner's report. "The victim before this one also died from a single gunshot wound to the head. The only difference between this murder and the one before it is the amount of stab wounds and the time when each stab wound was given."

"Care to elaborate there?" Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to do that a lot, Reid had observed in the time they'd worked together.

"Fifteen stab wounds to the victim the ME reported on were made before the gun was shot. Comparing this to the other victims, it leads me to believe that the unsub is changing their MO to account for their mistakes on their previous victims," Reid said, looking at both men. "But only slightly. Just enough that you can still tell that the same person is responsible for all of them."

They stared back, as if trying to understand what he was saying. He sighed. "The first two victims were incapacitated by the blunt force trauma after being hit over the head by something. They couldn't fight back while the unsub was stabbing them because they were unconscious. They ultimately bled out from the stab wounds before help could arrive. But the third victim, the unsub must not have hit him hard enough to knock him out fully, because he has defensive wounds. So he fights back, the unsub gets frustrated and shoots him in the head, and continues stabbing until they're satisfied."

A look of realization dawned on Hotch's face. "So with the fourth victim, our unsub decided to take them out before stabbing them so they couldn't fight back."

Reid nodded. The jostling of his head making his migraine worse. "But only twenty wounds compared to their previous victims? That's something different. Maybe he's cooling down."

"If that's the case, then it's going to make them a lot harder to find if they go underground. After we get back and fill in MPD, I need you to go through all of their old case files and see if any of those people could be responsible for this," Hotch said. "This person clearly has a score to settle with the department, and I'm willing to bet this isn't their first run in with the cops."

* * *

Reid was sat in the break room of the MPD building, piles of old case files sitting in front of him. He'd opted out of the briefing under the assumption that he would be looking at the case files. And he was, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to focus as his migraine intensified.

Most of the files he'd already gone through, only a couple matched the profile of their unsub, but he wasn't fully convinced any of them were the person they were looking for. He'd been entirely focused on the cases when a familiar brown haired girl poked her head into his work space.

"Is this a good time?" Emily asked.

He glanced up, but didn't say a word. He continued flipping through the file in his hand, before he saw her sit down across the table out of the corner of his eye. He groaned under his breath, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

"Look, Reid," She said. "I know JJ tried to talk to you and you really didn't give her much to work with. You can't keep this bottled up. We gotta talk about it sometime. And I mean, _really_ talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

Emily gave him an exasperated look. "Don't play dumb with me. You have an IQ of 187, trying to play dumb is just stupid for you."

He clenched his jaw. "I'm kind of busy trying to catch a murderer, Emily. I'm doing my job, maybe you should do yours?"

"That's low, Reid. I get that you're mad at me and JJ, okay? And maybe we shouldn't have pushed you the way we did, but after Rossi's...I don't know. I just thought we worked things out."

He scoffed, and rolled his eyes in complete disbelief.

Emily folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Pasta can't fucking fix everything, Emily," he said, slamming the tan folder to the table. The light breeze blowing a loose paper off the table. "I only went because you guilt tripped me into going."

"I didn't guilt trip you into doing anything. You made that decision."

"Then what was all that 'I lost 6 friends' crap," he asked, pulling another folder from the pile. "Because to me, that sounded an awful lot like manipulation."

"I didn't mean–"

"Yeah, well that's how it came off. Now are we done here? I'm busy."

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it almost immediately. "Yeah...I guess we're done."

He listened as she walked away, and slumped back into his chair when he was sure she was gone. He hated this. He hated them for keeping Emily a secret. He hated himself for hating them because logically he knew they had to. But he just couldn't wrap his head around it. He was terrified that this was their way of telling him that he couldn't be trusted. And because of that, the only thing he felt right now was a seething red anger. No matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind, he couldn't. He shook his head, trying to ignore it. He had a serial killer to catch. His problem with JJ and Emily could wait.

He picked the next file, and the name on the paper read Michael Collins. White male, late twenties. Several assault charges with officers from the MPD. He'd been put away for a couple years after his last encounter, and sure enough, released shortly before the murders began. Reid quickly stood up, making his way to the conference room in the precinct, where Hotch was standing, staring blankly at the evidence they'd gathered.

"I think I got something, Hotch," he said.

The man turned sharply at the sound of his voice. "Yeah?"

"This guy, Michael Collins. He was charged with four assaults in just over a year, all of the guys he assaulted holding jobs within this department. He almost beat one of them to death. That was his only felony, the others were misdemeanors. Took the guy a week to recover enough to be discharged from the hospital. After he was sent to prison for a couple years and was released a week before the first murder was reported."

"Could be our guy. Did he have any connection to the first victim?"

Reid knitted his eyebrows. "Well I didn't really check that. I didn't think it was necessary since the murders weren't premeditated."

"Can't hurt to look, can it?"

"I guess not," He said, shrugging. He flipped through the pages again. "Well, thats definitely a motive."

"What is it?"

"It says that the guy who got him thrown in jail was an officer named Jon Hayes."

Hotch's eyes made contact with Reid's. "The first victim. I think it's time we pay him a visit."

* * *

"You okay, Reid?" Hotch asked, glancing at the brown haired boy in the passenger seat. "JJ mentioned you didn't look well at the ME's office, and you're usually not this quiet."

Reid continued staring out the car window, avoid any eye contact with the older man. "I'm fine."

"We're profilers, Reid. I know you try to keep things like this from us, but you can't. I know you're not 'fine'."

"It's just a headache. I'll live," He said, his voice monotonous. He really didn't want to talk about it, much less with his boss. "Where does this guy live anyway?"

Hotch gave him a look and Reid wasn't sure if it was anger or disappointment. He assumed the latter. "Not too far. Just a few blocks down in one of those old apartments. A headache? Like the ones you had a while ago? On that case in Miami?"

Reid buried himself deeper into the passenger seat, refusing to make eye contact with his boss. "How did you know?"

"Like I said, we're profilers. Look, as soon as we're done here I want you to go home and get some rest. You need it."

"But–"

"The team will survive without you for a couple hours. If we have a break in the case someone will get you, but I want you to go home. You look awful, and it's starting to interfere with your work."

Reid glared. "How so?"

"You're not working well with others, you're irritable, you're not following through on you background research. If it was as simple as you say, this wouldn't happen. You need rest."

He frowned, but didn't say anything else. He knew Hotch was right, and maybe all he needed was a good nights' sleep, but he still hated being sent home in the middle of a case. It made him feel useless.

The car slowed as Hotch pulled into the parking lot. Before them stood an old three story building. The color of the brick siding had dulled to a maroon color, rather than the red that Reid assumed had been there originally. Some of the siding had cracked, and the windows gave off an illusion of looking almost opaque, as if no one had bothered to clean them in years. Overall, the place did not look like pleasant place to live. Reid was suddenly grateful that despite his salary, he still had a decent apartment. 

The door creaked ominously as they entered the building. The desk worker hadn't even lifted their head from the book in their hand. Either they were used to the sound, or they didn't get very many visitors. Hotch pulled out his ID, placing it over the worn pages of the book until the desk worker acknowledged their presence.

"Hi, I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, with the FBI, and this is my colleague Doctor Spencer Reid."

"What can I do for you, big man?" the man asked. His name tag read Brian Everett.

"Could you direct us to where Michael Collins' apartment is?"

"You're with the FBI? That means someone was murdered? Is he a suspect?"

"Person of interest. Can you just, show us where he lives?" Reid interjected. Hotch gave him a warning look, but said nothing.

"Sure thing kid."

Reid stiffened at the name. Usually people didn't mean anything by nicknames, he'd learned over the years. And if they did it was typically endearing. He didn't mind when Morgan called him kid, but the way this man had said it seemed condescending and hostile. It sent shivers through his body.

The man rummaged through a couple files in the drawer next to him, before selecting one of them. "He lives on the third floor, Apartment 305. Aren't you a little young to be a doctor?"

Reid opened his mouth to speak, but Hotch quickly intervened. "Thank you, Mr. Everett. Let's go Reid."

"You don't have to baby me," Reid said, as soon as they'd gotten out of earshot. "I can handle myself."

"We're working an investigation right now. Lose the attitude and be a little more professional. I know you're angry at some of us right now but that can wait until after. And don't provoke Collins. He's shown he's clearly shown he's not afraid to get his hands dirty on that rap sheet."

"I know how to do my job."

“Good, then act like it, okay? That little thing you pulled with the desk assistant? No more of it. I don’t want to pull you from the case, but I will if I have to.”

The elevator ride was silent. Reid hated it. Ever since his elevator scare with Morgan a few years ago, he’d be lying if he said they didn’t make him nervous. He’d masked it as best he could, but every time he got on an elevator he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat.

The doors opened, leading out into a dim hallway. The floor boards creaked underneath their weight.

“305,” Hotch said, pointing to a door on the left side of the hall. He knocked a few times on the door before they heard a noise coming from the opposite side of the door.

“What do you want?”

“We’re with the FBI. We just want to ask you some questions,” Reid said.

“Can I see some ID?”

The two agents held their IDs to the small peephole in the door. A few seconds went by before they heard a deep sigh, and the unlocking of several locks, before the door opened. He held it open, standing between them and the agents.

“Can we come in?”

“You got a warrant?”

“No.”

“Then no. Whatever you want to ask you can ask here.”

“Okay,” Hotch said. “Fair enough. Where were you the night of the night of April ninth?”

“Home. Why? What is this about?”

Reid shared a look with his boss, who nodded approvingly at him before he continued. “MPD arrived at the scene of a 911 call on April ninth. No one around except a dead body, which had been stabbed over thirty times.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Hotch held up Collins’ rap sheet. “Well, says here you’d just been released from prison shortly before the murders happened.”

“That was just a coincidence, man. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Does the name Jon Hayes ring a bell?”

“No? How is that even relevant?”

“He was the first victim, Michael,” Reid said, folding his arms across his chest. “And ironically, the cop who caught you, and had you locked up for three and half years. Still a coincidence?”

“I was home, that night, kid. I’m not your guy.”

There it was again. That patronizing ‘kid’.

“You have an alibi? Anyone who can confirm that you were home?”

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, ask the officer who’s tracking my every move,” he said, the irritation evident in his voice. He lifted his pant sleeve, revealing a tracking bracelet wrapped around his ankle. The light glowed, showing it was working. “Why don’t you ask him.”

“Can you give me his name?”

Collins shook his head, almost in disbelief. “Thomas Yeun. Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all. Thank you for your time.”

“My pleasure,” he said gruffly, before promptly slamming the door in their faces.

“You think it’s him?” Reid asked, slipping his hands in his pockets.

“No. I think he was telling the truth. Obviously we’ll have to check with his officer, but I don’t think he was lying.”

“Yeah, me either. Which means we’re back to square one. No suspects, just a lot of dead bodies.”

“We’ll catch him, Reid. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but how many more people will have to die before we do?”

Hotch was quiet. Reid knew why. They didn’t have an answer. That was the problem with this job. It’s all about saving lives and catching criminals, but it came with a cost.

“Call Garcia,” He finally said. “Tell her to find and contact Thomas Yeun and see if Collins’ sorry checks out. I’m taking you home.”

The line rang twice before she picked up.

“Hello gorgeous,” she said. Reid found him smiling at her enthusiasm. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey Garcia. I need you to get in contact with a Thomas Yeun? He’s an officer with the department. Apparently Collins’ has been on house arrest since he got out and we need the officer in charge to confirm his whereabouts on April ninth.”

“Anything for you, my junior G-Man. I’ll get back to you when I have something.”

“Thank you, Garcia.” He could almost see her smile if he thought hard enough.

The rest of the drive was quiet. The sun was setting, casting a pink glow on everything. It was quite beautiful. A complete contrast to the current case they were working on. The hum of the engine quickly lulled him into sleep. By the time he woke up, Hotch was pulling up to his building.

“I don’t want to hear from you until tomorrow, unless it’s an emergency, okay?” he said, looking directly in Reid’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll try to get some rest.”

“Good.”

“Hotch?”

“Yeah?”

Reid sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. “Do you know why Morgan calls me kid?”

“He sees you like a brother, Reid. His kid brother. It’s his way to showing you he cares.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, I know those other people made it sound like a bad thing, but it’s not. It’s a term of endearment, for Morgan. Don’t let them ruin it for you.”

“I know that, it’s just. I’m not a kid anymore, you know? No one’s going to take me seriously if my own co workers don’t even.”

Hotch just shook his head. “Get some rest, Reid. I’ll see you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally update after almost like, what...8-9 months? i was really hot with that writers block. i was in my first semester of college and the online learning really just kicked me in the ass. i planned on updating more over break, but as you can see that did not work out. but hopefully this makes up for the long wait ?? 
> 
> im not that lucky.
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed. hopefully updating soon but i make no promises. the only thing i can tell you is that i do have one of the last chapters written already, so if we can just hit that point lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like the characters seem kind of all over the place, but i hope it was kind of in character?  
> i plan for this fic to take place sometimes between 7x02 and 7x03. i don’t think reid should have forgiven jj and emily in just one episode. i feel like it would have been more natural if the process had taken course over at least 2, maybe more. i mean, it was a big deal. and emily’s “you lost one friend, i lost 6”, didnt really sit right with me, so we’re going to pretend it didn’t sit right with reid either.  
> im also mad that the headache story line was never really followed through. i mean, they won’t be a major part of the story, but i do want to acknowledge that he still has them, and that people are actually taking notice because canon didn’t do much of anything in that aspect.  
> so basically, this is just a salty, passive aggressive reid fic with angst and pain, because that’s all im good at writing.  
> i hope this made some sense? i mean, as more chapters get added and i put full details of the profile together, maybe it won’t be so confusing. im learning a little bit about profiling in sociology currently(we’re doing deviant behavior), so i might be able to add a little bit of that knowledge in.  
> as for statistics and science stuff, i am doing my best to do research. im not sure how accurate it all is, but i wanted tools sure reid was at least a little reid like in this fic. im trying, alright.  
> anyway, i hope y’all like it. i’ll try to update soon, but im really bad at that stuff so we’ll see. i’d love feedback, constructive criticism is always helpful, so feel free to leave some.


End file.
